


nights like these

by panda_parade



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Banter, Disgustingly sweet, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Fluff without Plot, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru Fluff, M/M, This is, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but iwa chan's there to make up for it, google how do i write myself a relationship, i got a cavity from my own writing pls im, literally just iwa chan taking care of oikawa, literally the most self-indulgent thing bye-, oikawa's tuesday just hasn't treated him right, tooru can't stop crying bc every time he does iwa chan makes his emotions go haywire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26573905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panda_parade/pseuds/panda_parade
Summary: Tooru has a bad day and Hajime takes care of him.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 24
Kudos: 349
Collections: kagsivity's fic archive





	nights like these

**Author's Note:**

> ok, so, i saw one of those haikyuu texting vids but iwa chan was super mean to oikawa and the comments were all talking ab how toxic their relationship was and it rlly upset me so it inspired this, and then i was rlly sad bc of smth unrelated and writing this made me feel better so it turned out a lot longer than it was supposed to be but ahhahaha n e wayz
> 
> this is, as all my fics tend to be, extremely self-indulgent but i have approximately zero regrets

Tooru’s just not feeling it today. Maybe he pissed off some deity in a past life and all that anger has been bubbling until it overflowed into the absolute shit show of a day he’s had. All he really wants to do is be home in his flannel pajamas and one of Hajime’s oversized hoodies and curl up together on the couch watching shitty alien movies with Hajime rubbing lazy circles into the small of his back. 

But! Of course! Just his luck! Hajime’s currently on a business trip and won’t be back for another two days. 

Tooru sighs. He really wants to cry right now. 

His sense of shame dissipated somewhere back in middle school and he has absolutely no qualms about having a breakdown right here in this stupid train. And he totally would. Except. Except his boss takes the same train home and is sitting next to him and is still lecturing him on one teeny, tiny, _miniscule_ , mistake he made, which he made up for anyways so why is he still getting _yelled_ at, and please if there is any powerful being out there just strike him down and take him out of his misery right here in this cramped little train car. 

The walk home isn’t the relief he’d hoped it would be, either. It’s cold and late and _of course_ it had to rain on the _one_ day that Tooru forgot to bring his umbrella. He’s running, hugging his laptop bag to his chest in a futile attempt to ward off as many raindrops as he can. His arms are numb, rain seeping through his jacket, and he can’t really see through the water sticking to his glasses. So, really, it shouldn’t be a surprise when he doesn’t see a particularly slippery patch of mud. When his foot slides out from under him and he lands in an undignified heap of wet clothes and skewed glasses and tangled limbs and cold mud and. Just. 

Did Tooru mention he wants to cry? 

By the time he gets home, his clothes are completely soaked through, his previously-white dress shirt now tinged with an unattractive shade of mud and twigs and leaves. His ankle is throbbing from where he landed on it wrong, his face is numb, and he can’t really feel his fingers. His only saving grace is that his laptop bag is still relatively undrenched; hopefully his computer didn’t take too much damage. 

Getting the door open is another feat and a half. It takes three minutes of fumbling with the keys before he just gives up. Just drops his forehead against the door and shuts his eyes tight and wishes he could fall asleep and wake up two days later with the familiarity of Hajime’s weight dipping the bed beside him. 

It’s finally the thought of getting out of the uncomfortable chill seeping into his skin and slipping into a warm bath (a shoddy substitute for the warmth of Hajime’s arms, but he has to make do with what he has) that spurs him back into action. Trying to see past the sting in his eyes, he manages to get his now-less-cold fingers to maneuver the key into the lock and swing the door open. 

He drags himself straight past the kitchen, fully intending to just skip dinner. But then he hears footsteps. Footsteps and that familiar voice as it says, “What, I don’t even get a hi?” 

He freezes for a quick second. Just a quick one. Then he’s whirling around, just as Hajime swings into the hallway, arms crossed and smile lazy. But then he sees him, and his brows dip into that familiar scowl. 

Oh, how Tooru has missed that scowl. 

“Hajime,” Tooru breathes. Heart clenching and butterflies fluttering and today has just been such a _low_ that he gets caught in the crosswave as he ricochets back up, trapped somewhere in the middle. 

“The hell happened to you?” 

“Hajime,” Tooru says again. The tears finally spill, searing hot against his freezing skin. He sniffles. Drops his laptop bag. Then flings himself at Hajime. 

Hajime grunts under the sudden weight, but catches him. Catches him despite all the dirt and mud that is no doubt being transferred onto his own clean clothes. “Fuck, baby, you’re freezing.”

“Hajime.” It’s the only thing he can say. The only thing he wants to. Body heavy and mind tired, Tooru just buries his head into Hajime’s shoulder, tears dampening the skin there. Hajime smells like home. Comfort. All the things that could’ve gone right today. The only thing that did. “Missed you so much.” 

“Missed you, too.” His voice is gentle. “But we need to get you out of these wet clothes.” Adoring. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Breath warm as it dances over the shell of his ear. Tooru’s heart fills and a familiar warming tingle travels through him, blood singing like liquid honey in his veins. 

He gets a slight shake when he doesn’t say anything, and he blinks blearily. “Mm.” 

Hajime disentangles the two of them, but Tooru latches onto his arm, scared that he’s just a hallucination of his overworked brain and if he lets go Hajime will just be sucked into the black hole along with the rest of his Tuesday.

Hajime rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. Tooru knows any other day he would. He’d huff and tease and pretend he doesn’t want Tooru hanging off of him but the twitch of his lips would give him away. 

“What’re you doing back so early?” he mumbles. 

“The meetings didn’t take as long as they thought they would, so the trip got cut short.” 

Tooru sniffles. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Hajime hums, turning his head slightly to brush his lips against Tooru’s temple. “Wanted to surprise you.” 

Tooru shuts his eyes tight. The tears are warmer now as they streak across his face. “Thank you.”

They’ve started towards the bathroom at the end of the hallway. Hajime blinks at him. “For?” 

“Being back. Here. With me.” 

Hajime opens his mouth, about to respond, when he stops. Narrows his eyes. “Are you limping?” 

Tooru pauses. “Oh. Yeah, I fell.”

Hajime sighs. “Tooru.”

Tooru huffs. “I didn’t _want_ to.” 

“You had _one_ job,” Hajime berates, arms slipping under Tooru and lifting all six feet of him with surprising ease. “Take care of yourself. Of course I come home to find you looking like something off of National Geographic.” 

Tooru pouts, but he can already feel the heaviness of the day lifting off of him, their familiar banter settling in instead, like some strange version of a safety blanket. “Mean, Iwa-chan.” 

Hajime smiles.

“What? What’re you laughing at?”

“Nothing, just.” Hajime turns sideways so that he can shimmy through the doorway of their bathroom with Tooru in his arms. “You usually only call me ‘Hajime’ when you’re feeling really affectionate or really upset. So if you’re back to calling me ‘Iwa-chan’, you must be feeling better.” 

Tooru gives a small smile. “How could I not feel better, Iwa-chan? You’re here.” 

Hajime stares down at him for a moment, before clicking his tongue and looking away. He says, “Dumbass,” but Tooru doesn’t miss the flush filtering across his skin, 

Hajime sets him down on the counter by the sink, but when he goes to pull away, Tooru keeps his arms stubbornly wrapped around his neck, keeping the two of them pressed together. 

“Oi, let go,” Hajime says, but the hands settling onto his hips don’t seem like they’re complaining. “You need to get in the shower. And out of these clothes.” 

“I want to take a bath.”

“You’ll fall asleep in the tub.”

“No, I won’t.” 

Hajime just gives him this look. “Even if you don’t, you need to get rid of all this mud.” He scrunches his nose up at the sight of Tooru’s hair. “Seriously, a bird might mistake that thing for its nest.”

Tooru gives Hajime’s chest a weak slap, but there’s a smile on his face, and all those homey endorphins popping off with Hajime being so close, with his warmth seeping into Tooru’s chilled skin. And. And it’s just been such a _day_ that there’s another flood of tears blurring his vision of Hajime’s smile. Of the way it softens. Eyes gleaming under the bathroom’s harsh, artificial lights. 

One of Hajime’s hands comes up, thumb brushing a tear away, but there’s another to replace it almost instantly, so then Hajime’s leaning in. Lips gentle where they brush against Tooru’s. And it’s not so much as kissing as breathing against each other. Breathing the other in. The hands on his hips trail up, up, up until they reach Tooru’s uneven collar. Then they’re going back down, unbuttoning Tooru’s shirt as they go. And then they’re pulling it apart from his flushed skin. Dragging it off his shoulders and down his arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

Tooru’s lips twitch. “Iwa-chan, if you wanted to undress me, you could’ve just asked.” He goes for his honeyed and lilting and flirtatious tone, the one that always riles Hajime up, but the effect is somewhat ruined by the sniffles and the slurred words and the uneven patches where his voice breaks. 

Hajime, never one to disappoint, rolls his eyes. Tooru’s sure that if he wasn’t currently crying a wet spot onto his shirt, he’d get smacked, too. “You’re so annoying.” 

Tooru giggles, voice breathless and hindered by sobs. “You love me anyways.”

Hajime sighs. “Yeah.” Presses his lips firmly against Tooru’s. Pulls away and whispers, “I really do.”

He moves away, then, taking his warmth with him, and Tooru shivers. There’s the creak of a knob turning, and the subsequent burst of water. Steam starts to curl around the edges of the room, and Tooru sighs. 

“Don’t take too long, alright?” Hajime says, stepping back and fixing Tooru with a pointed look. “I’m gonna go put together some food.”

“Wait, you’re not staying?”

Hajime looks over. Raises an eyebrow. “You want me to?”

Tooru blinks blearily. “Please?”

Hajime hums. “What about dinner?”

“I’m not hungry, anyways.”

“We both know you are.”

Tooru huffs. “I want you to stay.”

Hajime stares at him for a second. Then he sighs. Pulls his shirt over his head and Tooru’s eyes drink in the familiar lines of muscle along his torso. There’s a chain around his neck, a silver ring dangling from it. _The_ silver ring. His engagement ring. And, oh, here come the tears again.

“Hey,” Hajime says. Walks over, presses gentle fingers into the small of Tooru’s back and ushers him to stand up. “You’re alright, yeah? I’m here.”

“God, Hajime, I. I love you. So much,” Tooru hiccups, rubbing at his eyes.

Hajime’s fingers are undoing his belt, lips pressing kisses against the underside of his jaw, whispering soft “I know you do. I know you do, baby,”s onto his skin. Tooru reaches out, taking the ring against Hajime’s heartbeat and twirling it. Holding it. 

“How ‘bout this,” Hajime murmurs against his collarbone, popping open his pants’ button and pulling down his zipper. “You get in the shower. I’ll go order take out and get in with you after. Sound good?” 

Tooru hums, stepping away reluctantly. Hajime’s lips are against his again in a quick kiss and then he disappears out the bathroom door, some of the steam wrapping around him and following him out. 

(つ﹏<)･ﾟ｡(つ﹏<)･ﾟ｡(つ﹏<)･ﾟ｡(つ﹏<)･ﾟ｡

Tooru’s just rinsed the mud out of his hair and is pouring shampoo onto his head when the shower curtain is pulled open. Hajime steps in and Tooru blinks at him. Silently turns around and steps back a bit, tilting his head for easier access. There’s a slight exhale of air against the back of his neck, and then fingers sink into his hair. 

“Wanna tell me what’s got you so upset?” Hajime mumbles.

Tooru breathes out. Doesn’t say anything. 

Hajime hums. “That’s fine. Here, turn around for me.” 

Tooru complies, moving forward and dropping his forehead against Hajime’s shoulder. His arms still for a second, before readjusting and going back to massaging his scalp. It’s gentle, calming. Intoxicating in that way Hajime always is. 

Tooru finds his lips trailing along Hajime’s shoulder, whispering “I love you”s in the form of kisses. He’s at his collarbone when there’s a poorly-stifled laugh. He pulls back slightly, a half-hearted frown on his face.

“What?”

“You look like a troll.” 

Tooru blinks. Reaches up. Feels the spike Hajime’s made out of his hair before he’s dissolving into breathy laughter too. “And you call me childish.” 

“You are a thousand percent more childish than me.” 

Tooru giggles. “You never have been very good at math, have you Iwa-chan?” 

Hajime moves forward, reaching behind Tooru. Their bodies are pressed together, and Tooru’s so lost in the feeling of Hajime against him after over a week of not seeing each other, that he doesn’t register what exactly Hajime’s doing until the steady warmth of the water against his back suddenly turns ice-cold. 

Tooru shrieks, jerking away from the offending spray and into a laughing Hajime. 

“Iwa-chan!” he whines.

But he’s laughing too. 

(つ﹏<)･ﾟ｡(つ﹏<)･ﾟ｡(つ﹏<)･ﾟ｡(つ﹏<)･ﾟ｡

Tooru’s in his flannel pajamas, one of Hajime’s oversized hoodies wrapped around him. They’re curled up together on the couch, some shitty alien movie playing on their T.V. while Hajime rubs lazy circles into the small of his back. 

Tooru’s on cloud nine. 

“What’s that smile for?” Hajime asks.

Tooru looks up slowly, full and warm and content and so entirely in _love_ . “I’ve been wanting this all day.” 

Hajime gives that lopsided smile of his. “Yeah?” Uses his hold on Tooru’s waist to tug him higher up his chest. When he leans in, Tooru meets him halfway. 

“Mhm,” Tooru hums against his lips. 

“Been wanting you all week.” 

Tooru sighs, lips parting when Hajime’s tongue swipes across his lower one. It’s become sort of instinctual, late night makeout sessions something of a rehearsed dance between the two of them now. Tongues move in lazy circles, fingers trace along warm skin. Tooru shifts forwards, moving up until he’s straddling Hajime’s hips, giving them an easier angle to deepen the kiss. 

“Hajime,” he whispers.

“Hm?”

“You’re so good to me.”

Hajime pulls back, fingers momentarily pausing where they’re outlining the dimples in his back. “You deserve the world, Tooru.” 

Tooru inhales sharply. Blinks furiously to keep the sting in his eyes at bay. “Iwa-chan’s being so nice to me today. Did they give you some type of drug or something on that trip of yours?” 

Hajime grins. Says, “No drug can give me the high you do,” as he moves over Tooru, pushing him into the couch and leaning over him. Tooru’s breath hitches when a thigh is pressed in between his parted legs.

“Iwa-chan.”

“Yes baby.”

“You make my heart go doki-doki.”

The open-mouthed kisses trailing across the underside of his jaw falter. There’s a second where neither of them say anything, the only sound being screams from the T.V. as people fight aliens or something. And then they’re simultaneously dissolving into breathless laughter, Hajime wiggling a palm out from under Tooru and pressing it against his face. 

“Dumbass,” he breathes in between chuckles. “You are such a dumbass.”

Tooru pries apart Hajime’s fingers, peeking up at his bright smile. “I put the ass in dumbass.” 

“I think you need ass to be able to do that.”

Tooru giggles. Ignores Hajime’s (very inaccurate) comment and says, “You put the d in your dumbass.” 

Hajime snorts. “You’re such a little shit.” 

Tooru jams his fingers into Hajime’s sides, saying “Oh, am I?” as he jerks away.

“I’m going to get you back for that,” Hajime threatens, already moving towards Tooru, who shrieks and tries to hop over the back of the couch. But Hajime catches him around the waist mid-jump (because of course he does) and pulls him back against his chest. One arm holds him in place while the other flits along his ribs, enticing squeals and laughs and whines and vain attempts at battling out of Hajime’s unfairly strong grip. 

“I give up Iwa-chan! I surrender! You win, Iwa-chan! You...win…” He’s panting, now. Hajime’s taken mercy on him, opting to drag his fingers through Tooru’s still-relatively-damp hair instead.

“God, you’re such an ass,” Hajime says, voice entirely too fond for Tooru’s poor, enamored heart.

Tooru snickers, the past twelve hours something like a distant memory now. “Only for you, Iwa-chan.” 

It’s nights like these, where he’s drowsy and content in Hajime’s arms. Where Hajime’s heart is beating a steady rhythm under his ear. Where love floods his system and pulls his lips up into a smile so wide it borders on painful. 

It’s nights like these that he remembers he’s alright. He will be. How could he not, with Hajime right beside him?

**Author's Note:**

> \- thank u for reading my dream relationship as iwaoi
> 
> \- kudos & comments are appreciated, tysm for reading <33
> 
> \- vibe w me on tumblr @panda-parade03


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